


Sweet Understanding

by ThePreciousHeart



Category: Foundation - Isaac Asimov
Genre: (yeah i couldn't make it to 5+1), 4+1 Things, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, F/M, Falling In Love, Insecurity, Past Relationship(s), Relationship(s), Uncertain Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 19:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10793307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePreciousHeart/pseuds/ThePreciousHeart
Summary: "I don't think of you in that way.""That's not the first time I've heard that. Feelings change.""Mine don't."Four times Dors Venabili obliged a man who showed interest in her, and the one time she didn't have to.





	Sweet Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Don't read any further if you haven't read Prelude to Foundation.
> 
> Content warning for the general theme of feeling pressured to enter a romantic or sexual situation, even without necessarily wanting to.
> 
> Title comes from "Suddenly Seymour" from Little Shop of Horrors, which I like to think fits the ending of Prelude to Foundation fairly well.

       “May I hold your hand?”

       The calm, yet unexpected request jerked Dors from her reverie. She turned her attention from the inky black sky above, to the face of the man beside her. Brema, she quickly recalled. His name was almost all she knew about him, besides the trivial tidbits she had gleaned from their conversation at the party earlier that night. But what she had learned was enough for her to trust him, at least to the extent of letting him walk her back to her dwelling.

       Brema hadn’t said much after making his offer, settling into a comfortable silence. His question appeared to have come out of nowhere. Dors considered it for a moment before declaring, “No.” Short and direct, her answer cut straight to the point. _That should be enough for him._ Sure enough, Brema nodded, respecting her wish.

       But Dors could see that her words had deflated him. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Brema awkwardly thrust both hands behind his back, as if afraid they would accidentally land on Dors, outside of his own accord. Dors knew she had no right to feel guilty. Brema hadn’t struck her as the type to overstep her boundaries. All the same, she regretted having denied him what he wanted. The silence between them, once a thoughtless pleasure, had become thick with unsaid desires and the inability to act upon them.

       The harder Dors thought about it, the more it concerned her. She hadn’t known Brema for very long, but he’d been nothing but kind to her all night. He’d even gone out of his way to walk her home, and refrained from making a pass as soon as they were alone. It was only fair to return such kindness, wasn’t it?

       A faint pulsating sensation began between Dors’ eyes. Before it could worsen, she reached out, gently touching Brema’s wrist. At the touch, Brema’s shoulders relaxed, and he pressed her hand tightly in response, seeming to relish the feel of her flesh against his.

       “Thank you, Dors.”

       His gratitude struck Dors as senseless. She was only holding his hand, after all. But the satisfaction that radiated through her upon hearing his words was more relieving than she would have liked to admit.

*

       “There we are. How do I look?”

       Dors spun away from her reflection to face her friend Mokel, who appraised her visually for several solid seconds before announcing, “More beautiful than ever.”

       “Thank you. Your praise is appreciated, Mokel, as always.” Dors tilted her head back, unable to resist another peek in the mirror. The dress was stunning- a black, off-the-shoulder number with slits in the sides, partially exposing her thighs. How fortunate she was that she had received it in the nick of time, on the day of the formal dance, just as she’d started to despair of it ever arriving.

       Mokel cleared his throat. “You haven’t said a word about how I look.”

       “You’re flawless,” Dors assured him, without giving him a glance. She ran her fingers through her bronze hair to fluff it up. “Now let’s be off. If the others have to wait downstairs any longer, they’re going to believe that you and I have become each other’s dates after all.”

       She strode to the door, but just as her fingertips touched the knob, Mokel let out a sigh. “I wish we _were_ going as dates.”

        Dors paused, a ripple of surprise passing through her. Quickly she flashed back through her memories of Mokel, trying to compute his new behavior into what she’d observed from him in the past. Perhaps she should have seen this coming- Mokel had always tended to stand rather close to her, and intently hung on her every word even when she wasn’t speaking to him specifically. But he’d never explicitly stated his feelings before.

        Turning, Dors met Mokel’s worried brown eyes. “I told you before. I made it very clear that this wasn’t a date when I invited you. At the time, you accepted it.”

        “Yes, _at the time.”_ A frustrated groan escaped Mokel as he realized how inconvenient his timing was. He slid his hand up his cheek, smoothing his hair back. “I’m sorry, Dors. I didn’t mean to let you know now, but… it hurts me to be standing here with you, and to know that even though we’re going to an event where one’s expected to bring a partner, I still can’t have you in that way.”

        Though Dors couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret, her mind was more practical. _There’s nothing to be done about THAT._ Mokel was the one who had accepted Dors’ invitation, after all. It was up to him to deal with the situation he had stepped into. Mokel was a warm and, by certain standards, attractive young man, but despite their strong friendship, nothing he had ever said or done reeled Dors in to fall head over heels.

        Yet Dors stiffened when she heard him mention being hurt. Gazing more intently into his eyes, she realized the depth of his bruised feelings, though he tried to cover it up. Her forehead began to pulse. It wasn’t a major reaction, but enough to bring discomfort. A sour wave of unpleasantness crawled beneath her skin, her mind telling her _no,_ it wasn’t _right_ for Mokel to feel this way…

       She needed to make it better.

       Stepping forward, Dors reached for her friend. Mokel stared down at her as she touched his forearm, so lightly that she wasn’t sure he could feel it.

       “Mokel, if it will make you happy, I’ll save a dance for you.”

        His face lit up, and the waves of unpleasantness ceased.

        The one dance of the night turned into several, but neither partner complained. At least, not out loud.

*

       “A most diverting lecture, don’t you think?”

       Dors had hardly set foot outside the classroom when the remark stopped her, along with a soft touch at her elbow. She peered into the eyes of the student who sat next to her in class- a man by the name of Joon, who often focused on her in class as much as he did the professor.

       “Yes, truly fascinating. That’s a class I should find impossible to sleep through.” She smiled privately at the thought. Indeed, if she really wanted to sleep through any of her classes she would have to do so deliberately.

       “Now, don’t look at me like that.” Joon darted forward to wrench open the door at the end of the hall, which made Dors pause at for a moment before passing through. “I’ve got to thank you, Dors. If it weren’t for our study sessions I’d fall asleep more often. The way you explain things makes _sense.”_

“They are the same facts, Joon,” Dors responded. “I’m only using simpler language. By the way, I can manage the doors myself.” She pushed open the door that led to a stairwell, and Joon frowned before following her.

       “In fact, I was wondering if you’d allow me to repay you for those sessions,” he said, as they took to the stairs. “Would you care to accompany me to dinner later tonight? If you’re not busy, of course.”

        Dors halted at the top of the stairs, forcing back the strong urge to sigh. The transparency of his offer was tiresome. When dealing with Joon or men like him, _dinner_ usually translated into something with much heavier connotations.

       _Why do so many men obscure their words? I know perfectly well what they want from me._

“As it happens, I have already made arrangements for tonight’s dinner,” Dors finally announced. “But thank you for your kind invitation.”

       She made for the door- but suddenly Joon surged over, blocking her means of egress.

       “Look, Dors, come on now,” he said, a hint of laughter in his words. His face, however, expressed nothing remotely funny. “I know you’re deeply committed to your studies, but it doesn’t hurt to take an evening off. Even though we’ve known each other since the semester began, our relationship feels far from personal. I just want to learn who you are.”

       Dors paused, choosing her words carefully. They had to have no supposed hidden intentions, but the impact couldn’t be blunt enough to wound Joon’s feelings.

       “Joon, you are a pleasant colleague, but just that. Our personal lives should be kept apart. I don’t think of you in that way.”

       “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” Joon replied. “Feelings change.”

       “Mine don’t,” Dors murmured. “Now, if you’ll step away from that door, I have a class to attend.” She motioned for Joon to move, and reluctantly he did, pushing the door open and holding it out for her.

       “Thank you, Joon,” Dors said as she passed, deciding it was useless to point out how unnecessary his action was. She avoided his gaze, partly to further deliver her point about feelings, but partly because she was afraid of what she would find.

        As it turned out, his words were strong enough.

        “You’re welcome,” Joon muttered, sounding as if he wished he was somewhere else. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

       Even though Dors hadn’t looked at Joon, the emotion in his voice spoke volumes. A familiar light throbbing began in the space between her eyes, and a small jolting wave went through her.

        _This is wrong. Don’t leave him standing there like that. He’ll be hurt._

Before the sensations could grow stronger, Dors turned back to Joon. One dinner date made no difference in the long run.

*

       “This isn’t working.”

       His head half-buried in a pillow, Pavir mumbled, “What do you mean?”

       “This isn’t working. Nothing is working.” Reaching down, Dors gently turned Pavir’s head towards her until his eyes focused. “ _We’re_ not working.”

        Dors could see on Pavir’s face the moment when her words cut through the haze of sleep. His grip on the pillow tightened, and he lifted his head, concern impressing itself on his features. “ _We’re_ not working? Are you talking about these…trysts?”

        “Precisely,” Dors responded. “Pavir, I’ve enjoyed our private meetings, but you must realize by now that this isn’t going anywhere. We shouldn’t have to meet like this anymore.”

       Pavir pushed himself into a sitting position, groaning and shaking his head. “I thought we agreed to maintain our relationship on a casual level. Don’t tell me you’re falling in love with me, Miss Venabili.”

       A vague, wistful feeling filled Dors before she responded. _I wish it were the case. But it’s the exact opposite._

“No, Pavir. I suppose it would be easier for both of us if I was. But seeing each other so haphazardly like this- sneaking off in the middle of a party, lingering behind the others and pretending we’ve gotten lost… You and I both have reputations to protect. I haven’t focused on mine as much as I should, and I don’t want to be your downfall.”

        “Downfall.” Pavir chuckled breathily to himself as he ran his fingers through his dark hair, making it stick up. “Relax, Dors. My reputation is spotless. If no one’s tried yet to hold our affair above our heads, I don’t think they ever will.”

       He stretched out, walking his fingers up Dors’ bare back. She didn’t react, staring at the floor instead.

       A thousand reasons for calling the affair off swam through her head. Their reputations were a major concern, to start with. But it went deeper than that, down to the core of Dors’ being. With every touch Pavir gave her, whether it was simply brushing her hair back or fondling her, she couldn’t stop imagining his fingers finding the hidden seams that would open her up, or him stopping and remarking on the unusual perfection of her flesh. The more intimately he knew her body, the more likely it was for him to see through her façade. Besides that, Dors wasn’t sure that her feelings for Pavir were strong enough to justify their continued association. If she had feelings for him at all.

       And, though it surprised her to admit it, she had grown tired of obliging him.

        “Besides,” Pavir added thoughtfully, “we might say we’re to be wed. No one could find fault with that. The son of a well-known scholar marrying a distinguished Streeling professor.”

       The suggestion startled Dors, and her eyebrows rose. “ _Marrying?_ I thought the point of these… trysts was that we were not to grow attached.”

        “It’s just an idea,” Pavir said, though he sounded as if he was more interested in the idea than he was letting on. “If you want to know what I think, Dors, it’s that you’re turning what we have into a bigger deal than it has to be. No harm will befall us if we continue to see each other. Unless you no longer appreciate me.”

      At that, Dors began to sincerely wonder if she had ever _appreciated_ Pavir the way he so clearly did to her. It was hard to describe how she felt during their sexual unions. She was pleased when Pavir expressed his enjoyment, and strove to replicate the same reaction whenever she could. But when she asked herself if she enjoyed it as much as he did, her mind went blank.

       _All the more reason to call it off._

But already an uncomfortable wave was surging through her. Just picturing Pavir’s disappointment made her want to run back to him. _He needs me. He needs to be with me._

“Don’t tell me it’s come to that,” Pavir spoke up at once, scrutinizing Dors’ expression. “We’ve always been so good for each other.”

        _I’ve been good for you._ Had Pavir been good for her? She wasn’t able to say.

      “Perhaps you’re right,” Dors murmured. She captured Pavir’s hand and placed it close to her thigh, stroking the back of it. “But all good things must come to an end.”

        Pavir responded by squeezing Dors’ thigh and nuzzling his head against her neck. “At least let me kiss you one last time.”

       They did more than just kiss. But, as long as it _was_ the last time…

*

       “Dors, have you ever been kissed?”

       Staring into Hari’s dark eyes, and trying not to let herself interpret the emotion in them, Dors answered as impersonally as possible. “Of course, Hari. It’s a social part of life, and I live socially.”

      “No, no!” Hari insisted, shaking his head. “I mean, have you ever _really_ kissed a man? You know, passionately?”

       Dors swallowed- a meaningless, reflexive action. She couldn’t remember ever looking upon a personal relationship with such a nuanced perspective. The question was always of staying or leaving, and which would hurt her partner more. Until now, she had grown used to clear answers. But this was a conundrum. If Dors were to reject Hari, to walk away from him now after spending so much time by his side, he would clearly be left broken-hearted. And yet, she couldn’t convince herself to stay. Hari deserved someone better than her, someone who was capable of his level of passion and commitment. He couldn’t have that if he settled for her- not when accounting for her true nature.

       “Well yes, Hari, I have.”

      His intense gaze was burning her. “Did you enjoy it?”

      _All those men_. From Brema to Mokel to Joon to Pavir, and every other friend in between who had asked and received. Whether it had been the pressing of hands, a kiss, or taking them to bed, Dors had focused on their pleasure above all else. Because nothing else mattered. If they desired intimacy, she was satisfied to provide them with such.

       “When I’ve kissed in that way,” Dors said slowly, “I enjoyed it more than I would have enjoyed disappointing a young man I liked, someone whose friendship meant something to me.” To have stated it so openly, finally verbalizing the crux of her relationships, left Dors blushing. Under Hari’s gaze, she stood metaphorically naked. Shyly she turned her face away.

       “Please, Hari, this is difficult for me to explain.”

       Still Hari’s voice rang in her ears. “So you kissed for the wrong reasons, then, to avoid hurt feelings.”

       _Of course._ As awkward as it was to discuss her past, Dors also found that admitting herself to Hari lifted a weight from her shoulders. The frankness of the conversation, and the ease at which Hari understood, was at once refreshing and frightening.

       “Perhaps everyone does, in a sense.” Few were as bound to the mindset as Dors- but perhaps more bound themselves than she expected.

        A pause filled the air, as Hari mulled over Dors’ words. Part of Dors was tempted to look back at him, but her eyes remained fixed on the wall.

       Then Hari piped up. “Did _you_ ever ask to be kissed?”

       The answer was and had always been certain, but it took Dors a moment to collect her thoughts and respond. “No.”

       “Or wish to be kissed again,” Hari continued, “once you had?” A note of urgency now filled his questions. Dors couldn’t help but feel that her heartbeat should be racing, although she knew such a thing was unlikely.

       “No.”

      Softly, Hari breathed, “Have you ever slept with a man?”

      A strange feeling of heaviness overcame Dors. She cast her eyes to the floor. “Of course. I told you. These things are a part of life.” _But I wish they weren’t-_

Suddenly Hari grasped Dors’ shoulders, in a firm but comfortable grip. His proximity to Dors was so unexpected that she had to take a moment to process how she felt about it. She soon realized she longed for him to stay right where he was.

       “But have you ever felt the desire, a need for that kind of closeness with just one special person?” Hari pressed in a hushed, but determined voice. “Dors, have you ever felt _love?”_

Slowly, Dors raised her head to meet Hari’s eyes. Immediately she wished that she hadn’t. Hari’s eyes were shining, brimming with confidence and warmth. Exactly the kind of feelings that she was unable to reciprocate. The ache that welled within her had nothing to do with the usual throbbing, or the unpleasant waves. It wasn’t Hari she’d be hurting if she walked away…

       Though Dors knew there was no reason for her voice to be affected, she still marveled at its steadiness when she spoke. “I’m sorry, Hari, but no.”

       Hari stepped back, dropping his arms. The gesture was simple, but it spoke volumes. Dors took a deep breath- another meaningless action. She’d never been so acutely aware of how _different_ she was before. Over a lifetime of interaction with other humans, Dors had assimilated so well that it was easy to forget. Until Hari’s very presence reminded her.

        Gently, Dors placed her hand on Hari’s arm, trying to memorize every detail of him before they parted. “So you see, Hari. I’m not really what you want.” Somehow, it was hard to get the words out.

       Wordlessly Hari hung his head. Dors waited for the familiar jolt to go through her, or for the space between her eyes to start pulsating. But for the first time, her body refused to react. Evidently her subconscious had weighed the two outcomes, and decided that the pain Hari was to feel upon parting with Dors was preferable to the pain that would surely come were she to remain with him.

        What Dors hadn’t counted on was the heaviness that swamped her at the thought of leaving. Logically, it was the _right_ thing to do. But somewhere along the way, her nature had ceased to be restrained by logic- perhaps when Hari Seldon had walked into the picture.

        _Now I’m thinking like a human._

Upon this revelation, Dors had half a mind to step back. But Hari looked up, and immediately she was rooted in place. Instead of the sorrow she had expected, his expression was radiant.

       “Dors, dear, even so, _I don’t care.”_

_He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care?_

That was all Dors had time to think before Hari’s arms were around her. She stared wide-eyed as he drew her closer. If she’d wanted to, she could have easily overpowered Hari and stepped out of the embrace.

       So why didn’t she want to?

      Slowly, Hari kissed her, his eyes closed. At first Dors watched him, hardly daring to move, waiting for him to pull back and announce that he’d made a mistake. But when he opened his mouth, she released her caution, closing her eyes and kissing fervently back. Dors drew Hari more tightly into the embrace, astonished to find herself enjoying his solid weight in her arms, and the feeling of their forehead pressing together.

       _Is this… is this what it feels like? Is this what it means… to WANT someone?_

Several words popped into Dors’ head to describe the experience. _Terrifying_ was the first. _Different_ was the next.

       But both words were quickly drowned out by a chorus of pleasure. _This is good. This is right. This is good._

       As soon as Hari ended the kiss, Dors discovered that she was smiling. She waited, savoring the sweetness of the moment for a second, before voicing her request for the first time.

       “Kiss me again, Hari. Please.”

      Hari’s breath hitched in his throat, a soft gasp of joy. He complied, and Dors succumbed, giving herself over to her newfound desire. How delicious it was to acknowledge such a feeling at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anyone reading- comments & critique are appreciated!


End file.
